


How Cruel is the Golden Rule

by apocalypseArisen



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:22:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypseArisen/pseuds/apocalypseArisen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is thrown into military school, expecting total hell, but somehow manages to maneuver quite well- even without 3D Gear. It also doesn't hurt that he has the hots for teacher.</p><p>Ratings, characters, and tags to be added as the story progresses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Cruel is the Golden Rule

**Author's Note:**

> the title is definitely song lyrics because i'm actually the worst at naming things. bonus points if you know what the song is
> 
> also i'm fully aware of how overused school aus are but i'm uninspired and overused and cliche plots are my oyster. i'm not entirely sure what that saying means but it definitely works in this context. trust me i'm a lawyer

“You’re going to military school.”

It was a bit of a shock at first, of course. Your parents didn’t give you much of a choice in the matter, though, because they didn’t think you’d want to go.

But you didn’t care. Unbeknownst to them, you’d wanted to join the military anyway. This was actually a bit of a benefit, on your part.

Mikasa, your adopted sister who was probably more concerned about you than an actual sister would be, was ballistic, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. “How am I supposed to watch over you when you’re there?” she yelled angrily to you, and you held her, consoling her silently. You weren’t sure what to say to make her feel better, so you just said what you thought.

"I’ll watch over myself." you whispered, but she only seemed to be more upset. You didn’t want her to be upset. You stood up, anger pulsing through you, and yelled back at her. "If you’re so worried, why don’t you come with me!" She stood there, seemingly shocked into silence, and nodded.

"Alright, I will," she said, her voice steely and doubtless, "just to make sure you don’t get into anything too reckless." You stare her down, and she purses her lips.

"Fine!" you exclaimed, exasperated. She doesn’t need to be so protective all the time, shit. "Good luck getting our parents to let you come, though." You left the room angry, even though you weren’t really that angry with her. I’m just annoyed, you reasoned. Annoyed they sprung this on me, helpful as it was. Your door clicked in place behind you and you raked your hands through your hair, before stopping yourself. You were told that was an easy way to begin balding prematurely. Who the hell made those statistics, anyway? Probably some angry adult who wanted to blame his teenage years for him having to spend thousands on toupees. It’s fall and the leaves are heavy, let the fucking raking commence. You don’t give a shit.

You sat on your bed, and began to think. You didn’t have too many friends here, but you definitely would miss Armin and Mikasa, if she wasn’t able to come. You looked up to your canopy green ceiling for advice. Help me, o mighty fake as hell leaves. In some kind of answer, one of the plastic leaves that had been dangling precariously from the slithering vine that snaked around your entire ceiling sank down from its spot and into your lap. Thank God for the fake ass leaves, you chanted in your head like some kind of mantra. Then you decided to make yourself productive. You packed, mainly just books at first, but you remembered you’d need clothes and other things too. It was easier to do things when you weren’t concentrating on the whole leaving aspect. You didn’t have any kind of idea when you’d be able to come back, so you just threw in nearly your whole closet into your bags. You vaguely contemplated the thought that the school may in fact have uniforms, and you bringing all your clothes would be entirely for naught. But you threw the thought away, deciding that being more prepared was infinitely better than being not at all.

After you finished, you sat in bed staring at the ceiling, sleep a very close grasp but still too far to reach. You wondered, if you weren’t able to bring your friends with you, would you be able to find any there? It was doubtful. You had a poor reputation for pissing people off. Hopefully, though, since military schools were usually used as a form of punishment on children who mouthed off one too many to their parents, the rest of your group would be a bunch of annoying pricks too. The connotation of this suddenly dawned on you. You’d have to be around a bunch of assholes that were just like you for at least a year. Fucking incredible. You’d end up strangling everyone within a day, you were sure of it. Your eyes sank down, somehow even slower than the damned Titanic, as you envisioned a bunkroom full of angry pissed off teenagers throwing punches, and you eventually fell into the temporary coma known as sleep.


End file.
